


We all need somebody that can mend these broken bones

by Elisexyz



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 18:04:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14117934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: She deserves some stress release, right?





	We all need somebody that can mend these broken bones

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt, ["I don't trust him/her/them." + Biospecialist](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/172316788364/biospec-i-dont-trust-himherthem-please-d).

When she hears knocking and she turns to find Grant standing by the door, her first reaction is cracking a smile, because evidently he remembers that he startled her the last time he showed up unannounced and sneaked up on her without a _sound_ , but a more careful look at him turns her expression into a frown.

“Again?” she says, doing her best to sound annoyed even as she makes room for him to sit so that she can take a look at whatever injuries he ended up with today.

“Not my fault this time,” he announces, limping towards her.

“You always say that,” Jemma mutters. “Do you need help taking off the shirt?” He shoots her a flirtatious look and she rolls her eyes, biting back a smile. Like a teenager with a crush. This is getting a bit pathetic, but she has to enjoy whatever she can in her chaotic mess of a life, right? “I was referring to possible problems with your ribs or shoulder, given that I’m assuming you reopened all the stitches that you could possibly reopen.”

“Guess I could use a little help,” he admits. “But really, it wasn’t my fault. I was stuck with an idiot who blew our cover ten minutes in.”

“Is he in the infirmary? With the real doctors?” she asks, taking a quick look at his gunshot wound to assess the damage. And yes, obviously he reopened everything. “I mean, it’s what any _sensible_ person would do.”

“I don’t trust the other doctors,” he comments. Now, she’s come to realize in the past two months that he can be pretty paranoid, but she doesn’t think she’s being delusional when she thinks that his decision to always come to her for anything that doesn’t directly prevent him from walking has very little to do with paranoid thinking and a lot to do with the fact that between all his assignments they get to spend very little time together.

Jemma can’t bring herself to feel sorry about the extra time, but she _would_ wish for him to consult someone who’s more competent for a change.

“I am not even _a_ doctor,” she remarks. “Not the kind you mean, at least.”

“You always do a wonderful job though,” he replies, and when she raises her eyes she finds that he’s grinning flirtatiously.

She rolls her eyes. “And you always ruin it. _And_ don’t think that flattery will make me forget my opinion on obscene acts at the workplace. Especially in a _lab_ full of delicate samples and—”

“I get it, I get it,” he interrupts, lightly. “I still think that it’d be fun. What if I told you it was my birthday?”

“It’s not.”

“But what if it was?”

“That wouldn’t make my samples any less fragile, would it?”

He puffs in playful annoyance, and this time she allows herself to crack a smile at his silliness. She likes it when he’s in a good mood after an op. Considering how it apparently went sideways, it’s safe to assume that the reason why he lightened up is _her_ , and the thought makes her feel pleasantly warm.

Then her eyes fall on the octopus painted on the wall in front of her, she becomes hyperaware that her coat is black instead of white – because if you are the bad guys might as well throw a couple of clichés in – and she’s reminded that this— this shouldn’t be happening.

It started innocently enough, with Grant dropping by at the lab, flirting and stealing a bit of her attention whenever he was on base, and he acted so frustratingly _normal_ , so much like any other agent she’s ever encountered in her life, that it was difficult to remember what side he’s fighting for, how much of a _monster_ he is.

Then she noticed that after they were seen walking around together those agents that tended to get too invasive and handsy miraculously backed off, and just like that she found the perfect excuse to go along with it, a tangible benefit to make her feel less guilty for giving in to her wants.

After all, Coulson told her to make friends. And she deserves some stress release, right? She can keep it straight in her head, she can remind herself regularly of what kind of monster he is and she’ll be fine – she’s not, she forgets all the time: he smiles too bright to be a monster, his hands are too gentle and he makes her feel too safe for her body to be persuaded that he should repel her.

Jemma realizes that she’s been silent for too long when her eyes meet his concerned gaze.

“You should be more careful,” she reprimands. Deflection and improvisation are coming a little more easily every day, and it’s not difficult to sell a lie when it’s not even a lie to begin with.

He smiles affectionately, apparently reassured. “You don’t have to worry,” he says. “I’m good at what I do.”

“Well, many _good_ agents die every day,” she remarks. There’s no need to fake the fire in her voice, because the sense of dread that she feels and buries in work – for Hydra; because that’s _where_ she is and that’s _what_ he is – whenever he leaves base is very much real. Somehow, she always hopes that a little distance will help with making it clear in her head that she’s detached, that she’s just _playing_ him so that she can have a valid ally— but she’s not a specialist. She’s not trained for this. She has no idea how to stop seeing him like a _person_ , not when he puts so much effort into showing her that he _is_ one.

“Yeah,” he concedes. “But not me.” He grins arrogantly, and Jemma can’t help finding his cockiness endearing. It suits him.

“For now,” she replies, darkly. “Someday it might happen.”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs, leaning a bit towards her. “How could I go ahead and die when there’s so much that I’d miss out on in hell, uh?” Jemma would have all the time in the world to move, but instead she shakes her head slightly before meeting him half-way and allowing him a quick kiss.

She’s the one who pulls back as he tries to deepen it, decision that’s met with a displeased grunt.

“No, that’s all you get until we are out of here,” she remarks. “I know how _that_ is going to end, you are _not_ tricking me into it.”

He sighs heavily, the corner of his lips twisting up in amusement. “What was I _thinking_ when I started pursuing a genius?”

She rolls her eyes, smiling a little as well. “And here goes more flattery.”

Not much later, they walk out of the base together, his arm resting possessively around her shoulders as she discusses the latest object of her research – he smiles and looks fascinated by it all, but she’s pretty sure that he isn’t understanding half of it, and she does remember him confessing once that the thing he loves the most about science is watching her get excited about it.

As soon as they are sitting in the car, trying to decide what to get for dinner, away from the base’s oppressive atmosphere and those octopuses staring at her and reminding her that she’s supposed to _hate_ him, Jemma can finally allow herself to let go, knowing that, if she decides to believe in this sweet lie for a minute, nothing will be able to take it away from her without her consent. 


End file.
